


Dark Between Stars

by MadKiska



Category: Mianite - Fandom, Mianitian Isles, the realm of mianite
Genre: Bittersweet, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, darkness jordan, foam squad shenanigans, technically theyre all poly too but it isnt obvious so im not tagging it, the gods arent around much, this whole thing is kinda wildin but it works ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25760785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadKiska/pseuds/MadKiska
Summary: CHARACTERS. NOT REAL PEOPLE. DON'T SHIP REAL PEOPLE.Jordan takes a sip and regrets it for the rest of his life.Alternate title: Darkness Jordan goes feral asmr
Relationships: Syndisparklez - Relationship, karlinite
Comments: 26
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

It was the end.

They'd taken on every enemy that came before them. They had collected the stones, they had taken down every monster. They had slain armies with just the three of them. Four, if Hermod or the Priest came along. Still. Four against the world.

And they won.

Now, there was only one enemy left.

The evil behind it all.

The Darkness.

The upside-down was.. Terrifying. Starless. This was probably the most impressive structure they’d seen so far - laced with pure black and something like ink that leaked down from cracks. It flowed in a blood-like viscosity down through crevices in the path up. Both rot and cold nothing suffocated the three.

It was far too hot. Their skin was clammy and they could feel fever behind their eyes but they also felt like they had just leapt into an ice hole.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Tom blinked, turning his head to look at his friend. "Chickening out, huh?"

“I’m not chickening out.” Karl murmured. He was still, a couple of paces behind them. His head was tilted upwards. The door was large, gaping open into  _ nothing _ . They could feel the sucking, voidal magic deep within.

“Kinda are." Jordan folded his arms. His pride knew no bounds. He had confidence in all of them - how could they, Champions, heroes of the Light, fail? Despite all of their doubts, he knew they would win. "We'll be back in time for tea, if that's what you're worried about."

The Mianitee fixed his friends with a glare and a huff. "I'm  _ not _ chicken. Just.. Checking I have my arrows."

"You can have some of mine if you're low," Jordan smirked.

"Yeah, whatever, Mr. Infinity bow. Let's just go."

His friend watched silently as Karl continued onwards and Tom snickered softly.

"... It's  _ Captain _ Infinity bow," He muttered softly, boots echoing in the damp as he followed.

The next few moments were exactly as expected. Dramatic speech, 'you will never defeat me', blah blah.

Tom, honestly, zoned out. He was tired after all of the puzzles, the portals, the long conversations for exposition. He only came back when he sensed the fight about to start. Jordan's cocky words.

"Do your worst," He growled, bow in his hands and sword on his hip, ready to be pulled out at any moment.

"Oh, Captain," It purred, its voice echoing through their minds like radio static. "I will."

The three stood ready. Here at last. The final battle.

But nobody came.

They expected hoards of monsters, or a rain of arrows, or lightning, or for the Darkness' form to begin attacking, or for  _ anything _ to happen.

Nothing.

Tom frowned. "... Did… The Gods do something, or?"

"No," Jordan murmured softly. "I can't feel her."

They waited a little longer. Their guards down, their weapons lowered. It must have been a solid ten minutes at this point.

"Something's definitely up," Karl pointed out as if nobody else had noticed. Tom nodded in agreement. The Captain figured the tone must be a British thing.

He wandered off to one side, giving one of the huge, black doors a shove. It didn't move. It was more like a design painted on than an actual door.

"Anyone see any convenient vents or something? There's usually some of those around.."

"Nope," Tom called. He kicked at the door where they had entered. "Do we just.. Break the walls?"

"Better than dying here." Karl huffed down into his bag. "Almost out of bread.."

The Ianitee sighed, scanning his eyes over the magnificent room. There had to be something.  _ Anything _ . They expected a fight, a war, a battle to end all battles! Not.. This.

Not this void of both light and energy, slowly stealing their magic deep within their souls.

"Yo," Came Karl's voice suddenly. He was still in the middle of the room, but he was kneeling, running his fingers over the stone. "There's something here."

Tom practically sprinted over. "What is it? An exit?"

"I dunno. Maybe?"

Under his fingers were a circle - a ring of symbols about a foot in diameter. He wiped away the dried, black liquid to get a better look.

It didn't like that.

It stuck to his hand like tar. At first, there was just confusion. Then it crept up his hand, winding around his fingers and forcing its way into every line in his fingerprint. Cold. Ice injected into his veins; heat drawing out every droplet of moisture.

Jordan dropped his bow and skidded over, grabbing his friend around the waist and tugging. The liquid refused. It yanked Karl back down, pulling his arm into the floor.

They tried. By the Gods, they tried. Ten seconds that felt as if it stretched into an hour of pulling, pulling, struggling.

The men stared at where their friend had been just seconds before.

"What the fuck?" Tom whispered, voice soft for once in his life.

Jordan didn't answer. No, he couldn't. For when the zombie looked over, he was gone too.

And then so was Tom.

Down into the nothing. The black treacle that flooded him, into every crevice and pore and line.

Down, down, down, drown, drown, drown-

When Tom woke, he was in a small room. What could be described as a cell, if it weren't more like a cupboard. A bed to one side, a bucket, and a tray of food. Bread coated in jam that looked like it had dead bugs in it, and a small cup of a swirling, dark liquid.

The walls were grey. Lifeless. Dead. They sucked away what little life this room had in it. Literally - he could feel the magic deep within his soul being pulled.

Voices passed every now and then. A deep, breathy language. Something inside recognised it. As a Champion, he was susceptible to the Darkness. They all were. The Gods were made up of both pure Light and Dark, and being so close to the Gods made them similar.

These voices - creatures, mayhaps - entered at regular intervals. Their tendrils would remove the food and replace it with something identical, new, fresh.

Tom refused.

A zombie. An undead creature with the power of a God fuelling him. His heart pulsed as it pleased. Truly, chaos drove him.

Not food. Not water.

Chaos.

To say he stayed put was a lie. He was constantly moving around the room, restless. Sweet-talking the guards he didn't even know were there, checking the bed for anything that may be pulled off and used as a weapon or escape tool. He pushed every single brick on every single wall in the hopes of some heist-like secret escape.

Nothing.

And eventually, even he, the amazing Champion of Dianite, the 'one true God', felt the effects. Fatigue, heavy limbs. A constant shaking deep within. His tongue started to feel like it was shrivelling. His bones, like they were trembling. His brain, like it was failing.

And that was when something new happened.

The creatures came in at the wrong time. It was usually a strict schedule, no matter how long it felt. But now they were.. Here. Early.

Instead of food, they set down a chest.

At first, he didn't care. He wanted to sleep. His body was so hard to move, and to summon the energy to do so was near impossible.

No. Nothing was impossible for him.

Tom forced himself to stand. His fingers fumbled at the latch. The lid was nearly too heavy.

Armour. Plain, iron, clean. A single sword. Also iron, with carvings down its blade, not dissimilar to the ones on the floor. They filled him with dread.

But this meant something.

And he had a feeling he didn't have a choice.

Carefully, he slipped it on. The helmet slipped a little, the sword felt heavy and unfamiliar in his hands. It was all too loose, made for something larger than him.

Or perhaps it was made exactly for him, just before all of.. This?

His friends were gone. The Darkness had to be stopped.

That was all he knew.

That was all he had to know.

"I'm ready," He whispered, his throat hoarse. His fingertips were dry, his hands barely held on to the sword.

_ Crack. _

There was no warning other than his vision blacking out for a split second. From a tiny cell to a massive, black arena. Grey sand littered with dark splatters coated the floor. Stands surrounded it, but there was only one figure to be seen.

Sat where the emperor would sit.

Tom didn't have time to shoot it a glare.

_ Crack. _

The bricks shattered on one side of the arena. He saw a figure, sprinting with all of their might. Light hair, bare footed. Karl. Oh, Gods, Karl was alive!

_ CRACK _ .

It was hard to make things out in the dark, especially when the thing he was looking at was jet black, with muscles and flesh like congealed ink. Its tail like a whip; its long, clawed fingers digging into the brick and sand; its dripping, hungry tongue lolling out of its mouth. It scrambled a little as it took off after Karl again. Its paws skidded in the sand, its legs pumping to get it moving with the intensity of a lion that hadn't eaten for a month.

The Dianitee didn't have time to hesitate.

He ran, filled with an energy he had doubted he'd have. The closer he got, the more he realised how absolutely massive this thing was. It was two people tall, and as long as the Ender Dragon itself.

Eh.

Tom had killed that dragon many times.

He slashed, catching its hind leg and making it roar. Black liquid poured from the wound. It spun, forgetting all about the other to focus on Tom. Its dark, piercing eyes trained on him.

It stepped closer.

He stepped back.

"U-uh.. Good void monster?"

It sniffed. Its breath smelt like rot and melting, polluted snow.

Then it roared. Its jaws spread unnaturally wide and its saliva sprayed everywhere, coating his face and the ground around him.

Tom fucking ran. His feet threw up the sand as he took off across the arena. Galloping thumps confirmed that this thing was close behind. He felt the ground vibrating with each of its steps. He felt it get closer. And closer. And closer. And-

He spun, flailing out with the sword. Luck favoured the Champion of Chaos that day.

The tip of the sword slashed directly down its muzzle, leaving the oozing black blood to drip down. It roared in pain, staggering away from the Dianitee.

Without a moment to lose, he took off again. Across the arena once more, this time towards Karl.

His friend grabbed him as he drew close, pulling him into a tight hug while keeping an eye on the writhing creature.

"Are-are you alright?" Tom asked, tripping over his words in his desperation, hunger, adrenaline, fatigue.

The man nodded, pulling away. He was bleeding heavily from a gash in his arm and a slice across his cheek. "Are you?!"

"I'm fine, mate. Where's- where's-"

Karl just shook his head. His eyes darted to red, far across the arena.

Tom didn't need anyone to tell him what that was. Blood, spilled across the dust, and a torn, crimson coat sat in the middle. Was it the stained, dirty white trimming, or was it chunks of-

Anger sparked. Hellfire and rocksalt deep in the back of his throat. Saving a friend was one thing. Avenging one was another. He let out a growl to match the beast's, his eyes dark, his heart thumping in his ears. Magic of the Nether and his God pulsed through him. In that moment he felt a spark - Mianite's energy in Karl. Less frantic, more controlled; more like ice spikes and arrow tips than the wild lavafalls that fuelled him.

And somewhere, far away, a scent of the open ocean.

_ Don't worry, my lady, _ Tom thought, grip tight on the sword. He watched as the monster lifted its head, finally shaking away the blood in its eyes and the pain.  _ For once, I'll do exactly what you want me to. _

It roared, claws digging into the earth. A threat.

And a threat had to be challenged.

They charged. Who cared if it was for some twisted game of entertainment. This motherfucker killed Jordan. It was going to pay in the exact same way.

Swords clashed with flesh. Tearing, slicing. It didn't get a single hit on either of them. If Tom were there, mentally sound, he would have noticed that wasn't really attacking at all.

It roared, backing up to the wall. Its back arched, its tail lashing, its eyes wide.

Karl set an arrow against the string and pulled. Point blank range - if he were to release it, it would surely dig deep into this thing's body.

And that's what they wanted, isn't it? Revenge. To watch it fall as they had seen many things die before. To let its blood spill into this dust, and to turn to that smug bastard, and kill it too. The darkness snarled, its wispy hands curling around the stands, crawling forwards.

So Tom lifted the sword.

Its screeches echoed through his brain for days after. Karl had cried out to his God the moment it collided. The moment that the Darkness’ grip in the area weakened and it launched forwards.

They landed back home, their blood seeping into the grass outside Tom’s house.

The siblings felt their Champions’ return. Dianite wouldn’t take a breath before he leapt to his feet and dove down to the isles, to Tom’s house, to check for their safe return.

Mianite was already there, waiting for his false lover.

Ianite would hesitate. She would feel them back in this dimension. She would feel the hurricane of magic return with the three. Heat, ocean, wind. It felt  _ wrong _ . A storm in a night with no moon. But of course it had to be because they succeeded. A lack of Darkness in this world would effect her and her Champion. Of course it would. Balance meant between everything - good and bad, Chaos and Order, full and empty, optimism and pessimism, Light and Dark.

She arrived to see the two silent. Tom, holding a scrap of fabric. Karl, already getting healed by his God, embraced close together.

They must have won.

Right?

She stepped closer, glancing around the deep red stains. “Where is he?”

Dianite was silent. Mianite she understood - he was concentrating - but nothing said from either was.. Worrying.

“Where. Is. He.”

“I grabbed all I could.” He gently put a hand on her shoulder. “Every part of him I could feel. I… He…”

Ianite stared. Her chest twisted. Her stomach churned.

“No.”

His face was nothing but sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“No. No, nonono..” She turned her gaze back to the two Champions. Two. “No. No! Liar!”

“Wh-”

“LIAR! YOU LEFT HIM BEHIND!” The Goddess spun around to face her brother- her enemy. She could feel his soul deep down in her own. That wasn’t gone. It couldn’t be gone, this had to be  _ something _ . There was someone there. He was lying. “YOU ABANDONED HIM!”

“Sister-”

“I CAN FEEL HIM! YOU LEFT HIM!”

He took the smallest step back. “I did all I could-”

“ _ LIAR! _ ”

She felt the Priest hold her arm, keeping her from launching at the other Gods. She was distraught. That was the only word for it. 

Tom, on the other hand, felt that spark of hope. This wasn’t all that was left.

Jordan was  _ alive _ .

His heart fell.

Jordan was stuck with the Darkness.

It’s ok. They could do this. They escaped the prison themselves, they saved Dianite. They took on the universe and fucking won.

The Darkness would have to step up its fucking game.


	2. Chapter 2

Preparation took far too long. It was just a week, but that was over a week longer than they would have liked. 

The Darkness tempted them. Called them softly, softly. Karl resisted with scarily practised ease. Tom’s refusal was pure stubbornness.

“He’s not that far,” It whispered. “You can join him. Be with him. You can be happy.”

And when Tom refused once more, it continued.

“You don’t realise how your actions have hurt your friends, Champion. They distrust you. They hate you. All you do is deceive and lie. But it’s alright. I know the truth, and I’ll still be your friend. I’ll help you love yourself. Help them to like you again.”

The Dianitee remained silent as he pulled out his Sword of Chaos. He stepped out of his house on to the beach.

His friends were waiting.

Final battle two: electric boogaloo.

Well.

Prison break two. Three? The dramatic final battle would probably be at a later date, but Tom would be lying if he said he wasn’t prepared to kill that bitch if it showed its face. Drama or not, he wanted it dead.

Dianite told them all he knew, but he didn’t want to come. It was understandable.

Dec gave them everything he could, but he couldn’t make the journey. His magic didn’t let him.

Mianite lent them all of his luck, but it wasn't anything compared to the others' gifts. So he gave Karl something special in private.

Ianite crafted them each a small and magical object, but it would still prove weak against the Darkness itself. Yet she wanted to help her Captain.

And so, after their gifts, after their warnings, it was just them against the world.

Them, Champions of the Gods.

Them, who had fought the universe, fought time and space, fought every evil being at once.

Them, who will  _ win _ .

The prison was the same as before. High security, crawling with guards. Tom recognised one of the cell blocks far too well. It made his stomach crawl. He subtly broke the hinges on the doors as they passed.

At this point, they must have checked the entire prison. So far, they had stayed just under the radar. Some guards had to be.. Removed from the equation, but it turned out that just throwing them into cells roused no suspicion.

The two were quietly debating which way to go next when it was suddenly made very clear.

A sob. Shuddering, painful. Very human.

Without a care to the guards, the two sprinted down towards the sound.

It was panting. Panicking.

Karl stopped outside a couple of doors, listening. Which door?  _ Which door?! _

The Dianitee shoved him aside and brought the sword down on a handle with a mighty crack. His blade threatened to give way, but not before the lock did. No magic could withstand raw fury.

It took the both of them to get it open. It was both heavy, and like it was being held shut by a vacuum.

“NO!”

They hesitated.

“Jordan?”

“No!” His voice was hoarse. He sounded so, so scared. “Please- please, go away- I’m- I’m not-” His voice dropped to a sobbing whisper. “Please, please, please..”

They shared a glance. Karl leant in as Tom kept trying to tug it open. “Cap, it’s us. We’re gonna get you out, ok?”

His voice was faint. “It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real..”

The Mianitee stood for a moment, a lump in his throat, then stood back and grabbed the thing to tug.

It took too long to open. There was such a screech of metal on metal that they were surprised the guards didn’t come pouring in at that moment.

The sight inside was.. Something. The walls were scratched and rubble was spread across the room. The bed was torn to fluff that wasn’t even recognisable. All of that faded into the background at the jet black scars through the brick. Splatters of what should have been blood, both dry and fresh, but looked too dark.

And Jordan sat in the corner. His arms were as black as the void itself, and his fingertips were pointed. He seemed to smoke from the scars, like wisps of mist. Tears poured from his eyes like ink.

“Jordan..” Tom took a step closer. His friend flinched back.

They stood for a moment, unsure what to do. But there were guards. They had to go.

Tom hurried forwards, ignoring the black, ignoring the Captain’s panicking. “Jordan!” He hissed, trying to grab his shoulders.

“No! NO! Please- please, not again- please-”

“Jordan! It’s me!”

He blinked, finally focussing on the man in front of him. That didn't seem to completely help. ".. Wh-what..?"

“It’s ok,” He smiled, holding Jordan’s shoulders tight. Keep him grounded. "It's alright. We're getting outta here."

Silence. Tom began to worry if he'd actually heard him. Gods, how badly had this asshole hurt him?

"Jordan-"

"Prove it. Prove you're him."

He blinked. "How the fuck am I supposed to-?! Um.." He fumbled for a moment, but scooped up the Dianite sword with one hand, keeping the other in place. "Here. Only one of us could have this, right?"

Jordan reached out. Tom was hesitant to let him. He seemed to leave ash on the blade where he touched it, but it was nothing to the magic the sword itself gave off.

".. You're.."

The zombie frowned, worried, down at his friend, who stared back with those terrified dark blue eyes. Then he was pulled into a hug. His friend clutching to him, gripping on like he was the only thing keeping them both from death.

He was inclined to pull away. But he rubbed his friend's back gently. 

"Let's get out of here, mate."

The Captain nodded gently. He let himself be guided upwards, then out of the room. He didn't question, struggle, or comment. He was far too lenient. Him, the man who built his whole belief around revenge and, well, sass.

The alarm went off as they neared their escape. Guards swarmed. Karl kept them off to the best of his ability - the rooting powers on the sword helped immensely. And they leapt.

And by some miracle, they got through.

They got  _ home _ .

The few minions that followed either got immediately smited, or disintegrated in the Light of the dimension. Mianite took down the last of them while his siblings ran to the champions.

"Captain?!"

Tom was still holding him close. Jordan had buried his face at the blinding sunlight, black claws digging into the back of his chestplate. He led his friend to the shade of his lighthouse and helped him lower to the grass.

They both had issues with the sun - him being a zombie and used to the unnatural glow of the Nether, Jordan being attuned to the darkness of the End.

"Where is he?!"

The Dianitee let him go, watching as his hands slipped down into the grass. His fingers felt the stems, damp with morning dew. The black seemed to recede down his arms a short way, the tears only there by the stains on his cheeks.

"Jordan!"

Tom felt her launch past him, wrapping her Champion in a tight hug. She hadn't noticed the dark yet. No, she didn't  _ want _ to see it. All she cared about was that he was back. Across so many times and places, it was them against the world. All they had was each other.

The man didn't say a word. He stared blankly at the sky over her shoulder, letting himself be pulled in. He must be in a state of shock, Tom figured, as he was simply far too  _ blank _ .

"Sister.." Mianite's word was soft, but she heard, and she understood.

Her hands moved to take his, but she still didn't look. "I'm sorry, Captain. The energy it took to send them to save you was great. We can't stay."

Jordan simply gave a tiny nod.

"I'll be back soon," She smiled, studying his face. Her smile fell. She saw the flecks of black in his irises, the faint marks from the oily tears. Her eyes travelled down to his hands, which she stared at in horror. "Captain-"

The three were gone. Pulled back to their world, land, whatever.

The shaken, broken Ianitee just looked at where she had been.

Quiet. The crashing of waves, the sound of gulls. Karl went into the house to find food and water.

"You ok?" Tom asked after a while.

Jordan's eyes went to his own hands. The void seemed to pulsate somehow. There was a small laugh in his voice as he responded, "No."

He swallowed, glancing down. They just drew his eyes. He didn't mean to stare, promise. "Mate," He murmured eventually. "What the fuck happened?"

Silence.

"You don't have to talk about it-"

"I drank it." He curled in, hugging himself a little. "I was gonna die- I-I fucking drank it. I'm- I'm Ianite, I thought I'd be ok.."

Of course. Ianite; balance between all things, Goddess of the End and the sea. The Captain needed water far more than either of them did - and the crazy bastard could drink seawater itself and be fine thanks to being her Champion.

Of course he thought he'd be fine.

"Woah, breathe. Can't have you passing out when nobody's even ree'ing."

Jordan snorted softly. He lifted his head as Karl returned with an arm full of various foods, and many bottles of water. And quite a few leftover meads.

He had been scared for this moment. Understandably so, as they eyed him in a way that made him feel like he was a mob just out of range. Yet they still laughed, told a story of how Karl had almost burnt down the lighthouse while he was gone, told him how Karl had got logs for Boomer Jr.  _ and _ reracked his trees.

Midday of the second day came. They'd slept out here overnight and Jordan had almost passed himself out with rehydrating. They were just chill at this point. Listening to the tide come in. Seagulls were circling the lighthouse - there seemed to be a couple of nests up there. One was circling lower and lower, watching something on the sand.

The Captain spotted it first.

He stood, hurrying over to spook it away. A clutch of newborn turtles were pulling themselves out of the water and making their way down the beach.

"Shoo!" He stood over a couple as they scooted along, bapping away the birds.

It was only a small nest of eggs, and the beach was short. Jordan huffed, watching one disappear into the water. "Thanks for helping."

"You were doing just fine on your own," Karl chucked, lifting a mead in cheers.

He rolled his eyes, and with it something caught his eye. One last little guy, pulling itself out of the sand. One last attempt at a meal.

The gull dived and so did Jordan.

The two Champions watched in horror as he grabbed the bird out of the air with his mouth and landed roughly on all fours. It didn't end there. His hands came up, grabbing its weakly writhing body and pinning it down. He yanked his head upwards. An entire wing and half of its chest area was torn clean off with ease - and gulls aren't exactly small.

Blood dripped, dripped into the sand. Jordan just stood with the meat in his mouth, staring at the.... Prey, was the best word.

“.. Cap?” Tom slowly stood, one hand on his sword. They may have been relaxing, but they were used to keeping themselves safe. “.. Jordan?”

He lifted his head, looking up at Tom with large eyes, his pupils pinpricks. Then he blinked. He seemed unaware of the torn wing in his mouth as he came to his senses. A feather tickled his throat, causing him to cough and spit out the meat in his mouth.

The next few moments were nothing but panic. Increasing with Jordan's every sense - the sight of the gull, the taste of blood on his tongue, the tang in his nose, the feeling of it drip, drip, drip.

Tom tried to step closer, to comfort him, but he scrambled away. He kicked up sand and sprinted for the lighthouse, where he practically collapsed just out of view from the two.

"You deal with that, I got him," Karl called, taking off after the Captain.

He was completely freaking out. Already, the black had climbed so far that it was encroaching on his face. Thin lines, almost veins, up towards his eyes. Karl didn't hesitate. He knelt on the ground and wrapped both of his arms around his friend, pulling him in close. 

"In," He murmured, rubbing the other's back. "And out."

Somehow, it actually worked. Jordan nodded into his shoulder, his hands gripping on. When Karl pulled away, the darkness had receded again. He assumed, at least. He wasn't about to peek inside Sparklez' clothes. That'd be kinda gay. He was only gay for one man.

Was Mianite classified as a man? He was a godly being, unbound by gender in any definition. That made it not gay, right?

Ok, that didn't matter right now.

"You alright?"

Jordan sniffed, keeping close as the Mianitee pulled away. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

He kept going under his breath despite how many times Karl assured that it was alright. That he was ok.

The Captain was eventually led to Tom's house. The sun was beating down and it was clearly bothering him.

A long time of comforting and cleaning passed. They helped him clean away the blood. Tom leant him a shirt as his other soaked. The cleaning process was something they were all too used to. 

That night, they slept in a pile on Tom's bed. Jordan laid in the middle, protected from the world by their warmth and their bodies. He felt small between them. Safe. They had left a lantern lit to fend off the shadows as they dreamt. If they had been asked, it was for Jordan's sake; but at this point, they were all a little scared of the Dark.


	3. Chapter 3

Tom walked Jordan back to his home - the tower that stretched up and up. Karl was back home dealing with some things, which just left the two of them.

Across the lily pads like nothing had happened. 

Doggo meowled for food as they entered. The Captain happily obliged, giving her an entire salmon all for herself. Up the stairs to check on Boomer Jr, to say hello and to give him a pat. Farther up to Ianite's throne.

Even here, nothing had changed.

He couldn't help but feel like nobody had actually missed him.

Tom left at midday. Jordan had insisted non-stop that he was fine, really, and so he finally accepted it. Jordan had then spent that time checking all of his private areas - the vault, the temple, the alter, his beacon.

Night came.

A knock on the zombie's door. He opened it.

"I don't want to be alone," Jordan admitted softly, his anxieties causing the inky marks on his skin to creep upwards.

And so that night, he fell asleep next to his friend again. Safe, warm - a lantern in the corner.

This became routine quickly. He would head home to do his business in the day, but at night he would return to Tom, where he knew he was safe. Karl joined them some nights. He claimed it was safety in numbers, or convenience, or that he was too lazy to go home.

Things were… Fine. A little too normal, even.

Like Jordan had never gone.

Except, he  _ had _ gone. And it was starting to show.

Tom woke one morning to find it was just him and Karl in the bed. This made sense - the Ianitee was always very active, always had a project to do. But Tom heard a weird, almost knocking sound from the other room.

In it, he found Jordan rubbing himself against the corner of a table. He was simply scratching his chin, but the force of it was making it rock.

Another, he woke at barely dawn to the sound of yelling. He ran outside to find Karl pinned to the ground, Jordan on top of him, snarling and biting and fighting against Karl's sword.

One night, the two could have sworn they fell asleep to the sound of him purring.

"JORDAN."

Tom woke with a start. He blinked, looking at the other side of his bed. It was empty, but warm. He was usually the last to wake, but he got woken as the others left, or they dozed in his arms until all three were ready to go.

A loud  _ clunk _ shook him out of his thoughts. A probably over-dramatic gasp. " _ JORDAN _ ."

He fought the sheets as he leapt out of bed and into the main room. Karl stood in the open, glaring up at the shelves. He frowned as he followed his gaze, only to almost laugh when he saw Jordan up there, hand hovering, threatening to knock a bottle of dragon's breath off of the top shelf.

"No."

His hand moved a little closer.

"Don't."

Bap.

Karl leapt out of the way, watching it spread and soak into the wood. "Bad Sparklez! What the fuck!?"

Tom snorted, hand over his mouth as he backed up. Yeah, that was gonna take some cleaning.

With a small huff, the Captain hopped back down. He crouched and gave the gaseous liquid a sniff as if he had no idea how it got there before running off into the other room. Sometimes he ran on all fours like an animal, the Darkness adjusting his leg joints to make it less awkward. Sometimes on two like a normal person. Today was a four day, apparently. And a no-shoes day.

“I got it,” Karl muttered, going off to get a cloth. Tom nodded thankfully and ran off after his friend.

He didn’t have to go far.

Jordan had stopped, stood up straight, staring down at a chest in front of the door.

On it, a sign, in familiar handwriting. Inside, a familiar potion.

_ I’m sure you want to help him. _

Tom swallowed, putting a hand on the other’s shoulder. The Ianitee flinched a little. The dragon’s breath was clearly easy to clean up, as Karl appeared next to them. Either that, or they just stood there for that long.

They took it to the priest. What else could they do?

He didn’t even like to hold it. He set it down on the table, on a cloth. Jordan sat crouched in the chair next to it, watching it with the same level of caution. Tom was right next to him, mainly to grab him if he tried to knock it. 

"It seems to be the same one as the one you three were offered before," Dec murmured, sat opposite the two.

"And it's the same one as in the prison," Karl added. He was pacing. Nervous.

The priest huffed, watching it swirl. Deep, dark colours, shining like it was enchanted. "So it's the one he drank before. Awesome."

"I mean, it didn't kill him." The zombie shrugged.

"Yet."

Both glared at Dec.

"Listen." Tom huffed and looked to Jordan. "Do you  _ want _ to drink it?"

The man was quiet, staring at the swirls. Did he? The Darkness was so tempting. It always had been. The sharpest swords, the strongest arrows, the sweetest voice in the back of his head. The scariest pain in his chest.

He felt the panic rise as he watched. Watched it swirl. Watched it sing. Watched it call to him.

He acted before he could think.

The table flipped over, the Captain's claws digging into the grain. It was by sheer quick reflexes from Karl that the potion didn't shatter on the wood.

And he  _ roared _ .

It hurt their ears. It was unnatural, echoing, piercing.

Tom scrambled away from his friend - away from the cracking and screeching and contorting limbs. Away from the monster.

And what stood there now - breathless, angry, scared; it  _ was _ a monster.

The monster from the arena.

The three fled the tower, nearly tripping over each other in the process. It followed, claws scraping the ground. But it hardly took one step out of the door before growling and retreating. From that paw, smoke.

"He can't step in the sunlight," Dec murmured softly.

Tom didn't hear him.

Tom dropped to his knees, feeling tears in his eyes. That was his friend. His best friend. The hunger in its eyes choked his mind.

An hour passed before the growling calmed, though they could still see it pacing by the door every now and then.

They discussed the possibility of this being what the Darkness mentioned. The help he needed.

Another hour passed before they realised they hadn't seen the beast in a while. Dec said that the power of the Dark was fading quickly.

They hurried inside. Tom found him curled up next to some debris. His clothes were torn up where he had transformed. The Darkness still tainted him - the blackness crept up from his finger- and toe-tips to his elbows and knees.

"Shh," Tom whispered softly, kneeling next to him. "Breathe."

Jordan did. Shaking, scared. Tom ran his fingers through his friend's hair. Gentle, across his scalp. It seemed to help. 

His eyes fell on the deep scar across Jordan's chest. He recognised those patterns in the flesh - the work of unpractised healing magic. He wouldn't be surprised if it was the Ianitee's own.

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't know," He answered, his voice hoarse from the cries before. Despite all of this, there was still sympathy.

"I should have guessed."

Jordan laughed very softly. He accepted Tom's coat, wrapping it around himself. It was long, down to his knees. He still felt vulnerable.

He murmured his apologies to everyone. Even when they said it was alright, even when they said that he didn't need to. He would break into tears and hide in Tom's shoulder from his own shame.

They left the potion with Dec. He said he could clear up the mess himself. The three then returned to Tom's house. Karl took a detour via the 'Battle Tower' to grab spare clothes.

And Jordan still didn't stop apologising. His voice cracked, his cheeks pale beyond belief.

He couldn't help but notice his friends' stares at where the black turned to flesh. Where it seeped into his bloodstream, cracked against his skin, faded into his normal tone. A sight like lemon juice on a papercut. Like tar in your mouth.

They curled up on the bed with Jordan between the two, his face in Karl's chest. Tom's hand rested gently on the Captain's hip, fingers just under the baggy off-white shirt and brushing against his skin. Karl's arm came under the pillow and his fingers gently laced through his thick black hair. A far darker black since… Well

A faint piercing feeling woke the Mianitee that night, making him blink. He glanced down to see Jordan’s fingertips- no,  _ claws _ digging into his skin, leaving red marks. He sighed softly, lifting his hand and brushing the man’s hair away.

He was twitching, eyes screwed tight shut. Karl sighed gently.

They all had nightmares.

He shuffled closer to the Captain, pressing their bodies together and pulling him into a squeeze between the two. He felt Tom shuffle on the other side, snuggling closer.

Karl hesitated. Then, gently, he planted a soft kiss on Jordan’s forehead. That seemed to actually have worked. He chuckled and closed his eyes, letting himself doze off again.

The next morning was quiet. Tom made breakfast, despite the only thing he was able to make was eggs. Perhaps unburnt bacon, if they were lucky.

He called them to the table as he finished up and served on to plates. Nothing stood out at first, he just set the plates down, then he realised that Jordan wasn't wearing his coat. No, not his  _ own _ coat. This was black.

He was wearing Tom's coat.  _ And _ it was adorably oversized.

Not a word was said regarding it. The silence that food brought was comfortable. He also got the feeling that Karl, too, didn't want to make him feel awkward. Neither wanted him to take it off.

He was… Cute.

And it only got worse as the day went on.

Not much could be done while they waited on Dec, so the three decided to spend that day just messing around outside. At mid morning, the three were flopped in the grass, recovering from a play tussle over the pronunciation of some word. One could call it a cuddle, though they would argue that they weren't pressed close enough together for it to be defined as one.

Either way, Jordan started purring.

This couldn't be a late night delirium as they had thought before. They were all wide awake, fully conscious …

Tom raised an eyebrow over at him, to which he returned a frown.

"Dude."

"What?"

Karl fought back a laugh, hand over his mouth as he sat up. "Oh my Gods.."

He was getting frustrated. "What?!"

"Ok, ok," Tom grinned. "Just- just quiet and listen.”

They sat there for a moment. A grin grew on the Dianitee’s face at Jordan’s confusion. He sat up sharply, scanning the area, then looked back to the grass behind him.

“... What?” He blinked. “What the frick is that?”

Tom snorted loudly. Jordan whipped his head around trying to find the source of it. Then he paused. He put his hand on his chest, thinking, then went bright red. Bright,  _ bright _ red.

“Oh my Gods.” His face was like a poppy in a desert. He grabbed the collar of the coat to hide his face and flopped back into the grass, hiding his face. “Ohhh my Gods.”

With a smirk, the Dianitee leant back, leaning on his elbow. “No need to be ashamed of having a crush, Sparkly-pants.”

“I’m going to murder you both.”

The two shared a chaotic grin. Tom shuffled closer and very gently put a hand on Jordan’s waist. The man burst into sound - a wild vibrating that sounded more like a motor from Ruxomar than a person.

Karl grinned and reached out to pull the collar down. Jordan was still hiding it in the grass. His entire face was so red that he thought he may pop.

"It's cute," He murmured, making the Captain somehow flush darker.

"He's right, you know."

Jordan kicked them gently and wrapped his arms around his face. "Go awayyy..!"

"Nah." Tom grinned and practically flopped on top of him. "I'll save your little legs from running after me~"

A very loud gasp. "My legs are  _ not _ little!"

"They are! You're so- so-"

"So short!" Karl finished for him, wrapping his arms around Sparklez and practically picking him up. The man squeaked, grabbing on to his arms in panic. "Sure, you're all big and strong, but you're  _ tiny _ ."

He squirmed, face bright red. He could have easily gotten himself out if he really wanted.

A delicate cough like honey on a breeze.

"Sorry, am I interrupting?"

All three froze, staring over at the lady in pastel and purple, her hair swaying like she was standing underwater in a gentle current. She laughed lightly at their looks of horror.

Jordan shoved himself away from his friend, stumbling a little in the grass, but standing up straight. This was the first time they'd seen each other properly since… Since before he got back. He felt his breath shudder lightly in anticipation. She just smiled. Was she as happy to see him as he was her?

Ianite held her hands out. Palms up, welcoming him in.

He would have hesitated, but a hand in his back shoved him towards her, making her grab his arms to keep him up. He knew, realistically, that his dark black hands were merely pigmented, but there was still a panic. What if he infected her? What if she became tainted, too? What if-

"Gods are made of both Light and Dark, Captain," She murmured softly, pulling him in closer. At his nod, she looked to the other two. “They’ll be here soon.”

Jordan barely missed the looks of sheer excitement before he and his Lady reappeared atop his tower. He glanced aside to where they stood far down, only to be pulled away from the edge, towards the safer, larger area.

“My apologies, Captain, some of my powers are still weak..”

He looked back to her. To her harsh face, her soft features, her smell of sickly sweet smoke.

“I’m sorry,” Were the only words he could think to say. The only words that could escape him. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry..”

“It’s alright, my Captain,” She whispered. “It’s ok. You’re ok.”

He felt his heart in his throat. He felt his soul well up in tears in the corners of his eyes, then spill across his cheeks. His hands shook against her arms as she pulled him in. Pulled his head close to her chest, ran her fingers through his jet black hair. She felt like quiet incarnate. Not silence, where your ears ring and your brain thumps. Quiet. Calm. Wind in the distance, the sound of waves far away, a small chirp as the first bird of dawn wakes. It ached in his lungs.

“It wasn’t your fault. You tried so hard. I couldn’t reach you in that realm, and you needed the water in it to survive, and by Angrec themself you survived.” She ran her thumb along his cheek, wiping away his tears. It was like black water on her fingertips. She sounded so proud. “You survived. As you always do. You incredible, incredible human being.”

His mouth opened to respond, but all that came out was a sob. Ianite simply smiled and pulled him in once more.

Nothing needed to be said. She led him to the carpet, kept clean from moss and mold by her magic, and lowered them both on to the floor. Her fingers traced patterns on his skin. Calming him, silently telling him everything was ok. It would always be ok.

Jordan wouldn’t be able to tell you how much time had passed. Though, that may be a testimony to how little he cared. He was safe in her arms. Calm. For once, unafraid of what he may do.

It was early evening when Dianite arrived. He brought heat, magma - a feeling of tiny explosions in your chest.

The Captain was unaware of his own purring, even when he lifted his head to look up at the God. What he did notice, however, was the moment that Dianite recoiled.

It was only for a split moment, but the sight of the dark creeping up his arms, the marks like lightning across his skin, even so faint and pale in the yet untainted parts of his skin... It scared him. 

But he ignored it. Tried to, at least. Tried to ignore the animalistic sound, the way Jordan’s claws clutched her skort a little.

“My apologies, I thought you’d be done by now.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

Ianite raised her eyebrows, meeting his with her own. Balance meant some chaos, after all. “Just because you spend all your time here doesn’t mean I can’t. There's no mystical limit."

He laughed, putting his hands behind his back. "You're the one who pops in for three minutes, says some cryptic shit, then leaves."

"'Ey," Jordan murmured. He looked half asleep. "Don't swear at m'lady.."

"Now you've ruined it," She sighed softly, gently pulling his head back down to her lap. When Dianite raised an eyebrow in question, she sighed, and ran her fingers through his hair. "He hasn't been sleeping well. I was using my magic to help him."

"Oh." He frowned, kneeling himself down with them. "I'm sorry."

A small sigh. Jordan's eyes drifted shut again, despite how he fought for them to be open. "It's ok," She murmured.

"Is it?"

"... Maybe." She brushed hair out of his face. She smiled sadly. "Can you see the grey in his skin? The dark under his eyes? His connection to me fades each day, along with his energy. Only a little, but I feel it. He's sick."

Dianite frowned. He turned his head, glancing across the islands and the tower in the distance. "Do you think that potion the priest mentioned-"

"No." She swallowed, taking a breath to calm herself, then sighed. "I don't…"

"I know." He shuffled closer, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Ianite looked up to him. He did know. They were young and confused. These men expected big things of them, but the Gods were still finding their ways in this world.

He smiled. "He's asleep, Ia. Let's talk about this when Mianite gets back home."

The Goddess returned to the house. She laid her Champion down, only for the noise to disturb the other in the house.

"Sparklydick? Kyle?"

She held a finger to her lips as he rounded the corner, taking him by surprise. He glanced down to Jordan, a worried frown on his face.

"He should sleep through tonight," She murmured softly, then put a hand on his shoulder. "I feel as if you'll see your other friend tomorrow."

Tom nodded, and with that, she was gone.

He turned to his friend. The sleeping figure, for once not twitching or squirming or mumbling.

And so, Tom got himself ready, and slipped into the bed alongside him. His fingers traced the scars in the Ianitee's skin as he gently wrapped his arms around the other's waist.


	4. Chapter 4

They slept soundly far beyond dawn. The sun was near to its peak in the sky when they finally stirred. Or, at least, Tom finally stirred.

He awoke with a groan and a mumbled "good morning". His back ached from laying in one position all night, but he didn't regret it one bit. Perhaps he would stretch the muscles back into place as he made them both lunch.

His eyes fell to his friend, and he smiled. Still asleep. Jordan needed it, but damn, it had been over twelve hours by now. How long until it was classified as a coma?

Tom laughed it off and went to find some meat and bread. A feeble attempt at lunch, but tasty all the same. He returned and prodded Jordan playfully as he started to eat.

Then again.

Then  _ again. _

"... Sparkly-pants. Wakey-wakey!"

Tom wasn't exactly quiet, even when he whispered. Jordan didn't even move. Panicked thoughts flashed through the man's mind - was he breathing? Was he even alive?!

He dropped the food without a care for the mess as he shoved aside the covers to feel for a pulse.

Alright, not dead.

His hands gripped Jordan's shoulders and he shook. The kind of shake that would wake a dead man. Nothing.

"Jordan! JORDAN."

Tom arrived at the tower doors, drenched in saltwater and sweat. His arms and shoulders burned from carrying his friend. (His friend - a weight he should be unable to hold. The only reason he was able to lift the Ianitee for more than a few seconds was adrenaline. Pure fear, pure hope. His friend had to be ok. He  _ had _ to be.) He was unarmoured, still in his bedclothes, but he didn't care. He didn't give two flying shits. His heart thumped its irregular dance, his eyes wide with their familiar panic as Dec opened the doors.

"He's not moving," He explained through panted breaths. That was all he needed to say.

He was ushered in, Jordan set on a bed, then the Priest already getting to work.

First, a simple draught that was supposed to give one a small shock. A surprise - a jolt.

Nothing.

Next, a combined potion of healing and potion of harming. The sharp sting of pain to wake him, to make his fight or flight kick in, then the warm nectar to keep him uninjured.

Nothing.

Then, what Dec called a 'near-to-last resort'. It had no name, and was originally designed to wake interrogation subjects. He explained it would take an hour to take effect. In which time, Dec would head to the temple to commune with Ianite. To ask if this was her magic gone awry.

And so he did.

Tom paced nervously as he waited. All morning hunger was gone, all fuzzy sleep-headedness was  _ gone _ . The Champion was like a guard, marching back and forth. The untold treasure within his palace? The Captain.

Over an hour passed.

Dec returned.

"Her magic was to make it mareless," He said softly. "To guide him to rest, not to hold him there. But something is holding her away. Mianite got sucked back before he was ready," He added, even softer, as if fearing someone would overhear. “This isn’t their doing.”

The young Dianitee swallowed, leaning back against a countertop. He watched his friend for a moment before muttering, “... Should we?”

“I don’t know,” Dec whispered. “There’s nothing else I can do.”

Tom swallowed. “So we should?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know!”

“He survived last time! If anything, it kept him alive! Maybe-”

“But what else would it do?!” The priest gestured roughly to him. His arms, the veins deep in his skin that popped dark; dark against his pale, gaunt features. “Look at him!  _ Look at him! _ And that was only one potion!”

“I CAN’T LET HIM DIE.”

“BUT MAYBE THAT’D BE BEST?!”

Tom stared in absolute disbelief. Then his expression hardened. A glare like ice and a rage like lava. He didn’t give Dec the satisfaction of another single word. Instead, he spun around, scanning the room for any sign. He could feel the magic in his gut. It was here.

“Tom.”

No. He ignored the priest. Shoved him aside when he reached out to try and stop him. Jordan was  _ not _ going to die. Not on his watch.

“Son, please-”

“Don’t call me son.”

“.. Thomas..”

He ignored the man. Instead, focused on the energy. It pulled him. Tempted him. The sickly sweet smoke curled through his mind, pulled him, pulled his heart.

Tom stepped closer. He pulled back a cupboard door, and there it was. ‘Hidden.’

“Son,  _ please. _ ”

He lashed out, lifting an arm with the strength that so much war had given him and using it to shove the priest away. Away, down to the floor, where he stared up in horror. “I’M NOT YOUR SON.”

Silence.

He growled, bottle in his hand, and stepped over him.

Jordan was not going to die.

Dec didn’t try to stop him now. If anything, the priest knew he couldn’t. He watched, helpless, as Tom propped the captain up with such tenderness, and poured the dark liquid down his throat.

Neither of them noticed Karl in the doorway, panic-stricken and searching for his friends after Mianite's sudden disappearance. Neither of them noticed how he dropped the sword in favour of leaping forwards and grabbing Tom.

The potion splattered across the rough stone floor as the bottle slipped out of his hand. The two scuffled, Karl dragging his friend away in the tussle.

The problem was, however, that it worked.

Both men froze in their fight as Jordan sat up, spluttering and gasping for oxygen. His fingertips scraped against the table as he struggled to his feet and promptly stumbled. He coughed, wheezing,  _ desperate _ for any form of oxygen. His hands hit the stone and he threw up nothing but bile - the potion was already in his system. 

Tom shoved himself out of Karl's arms and skidded over, kneeling next to the captain and putting a hand on his back.

"Hey, shh, breathe…"

Jordan leant into his arm, his whole body shuddering. He didn't need to ask. He knew what had happened.

"It's alright," Tom murmured. "It's alright. We're here."

The Ianitee struggled but soon managed to choke out a tiny, "Thank you."

All three felt their hearts sink at his words. Somehow, that simple phrase confirmed that Jordan really, truly needed the potion. He'd die without it.

The Darkness had claimed him.

They cleaned up the mess. In less than half an hour, the Captain was acting as if nothing happened. The colour had returned to his cheeks and the light to his eyes. He had an energy as if he'd just woken from the most refreshing nap ever.

Dec kept trying to check him over, but each time he was pushed away with nothing but a laugh. Jordan really seemed fine. He seemed normal. He seemed as he had.. Before.

“I’m fine,” He smiled softly, shrugging away their questions. “Really.”

Karl couldn’t help but pull his hand away. He’d wanted to help him stand, help him stay on his feet, but he also seemed to stand on them better than the Mianitee himself.

“If you’re sure, mate.”

He smiled and nodded. Grinned, flashing the dangerously sharp teeth for just a second, before remembering that his teeth weirded them out. “Really, dude. I’m great. I just..”

His mind fell to the bottle. The dark liquid that was like drinking pure honey. The near invisible lines of smoke wrapping around his every limb, pinning him to the hard cold floor-

“I just.. I clearly  _ needed _ ..”

None of them wanted to say it. Tom simply patted his friend on the back.

“Later. I’m pretty sure none of us have had breakfast yet!”

The three lounged in the shade after they ate. Karl had explained how Mianite had frozen with no warning, then screamed with pain as if he were mortal, then  _ vanished. _ The Priest had no explanation, but they all knew it was something very, very bad.

Very bad indeed.

"What were you two even doing for so long last night?" Jordan smirked as he shifted a little to stay out of the sunlight.

Karl's face was like a beetroot. He stumbled over his words before landing on simply doing a rude gesture.

The zombie grinned. "Could ask you the same thing, Sparkly-pants. You and Ianite were gone for ages."

"She's my  _ God _ ," The Captain answered with a huff. One that showed his displeasure at the insinuation while also keeping lighthearted and banterful. "We were just talking and relaxing, like we are now. I don't like her like that."

Tom just rolled his eyes. "Do you even like  _ anyone _ like that?"

Karl blinked a little, glancing over from his sunbathe. Such a forward question; and yet, he was answered with such casual words.

"Mind your business, zombie boy," He cautioned teasingly. "Besides," He gestured lazily towards his own island. "I'm married."

"Which one even is it?"

Jordan pulled a face. "Dude, ask Hermod, I don't even know."

Laughter. It felt good, finally, to laugh like everything was fine. Everything was  _ not _ fine - far from it, and perhaps it would never be again - but it was nice, for now, to pretend.

The next few days were spent as if the past months were a dream. Jordan spent quite some time on his island, fixing his vault after they'd tried to break in ages ago, working on various projects like nothing was wrong.

The first night, Tom found himself sitting awake, waiting for the Ianitee to come. He saw the lights on in the tower that felt so far away.

The second, Tom managed to sleep for a few hours with Karl by his side. They hadn't seen Jordan all day. It wasn't unusual, he lost himself in projects all the time, but it worried them nonetheless. It always had.

The third, as they were dozing off, they heard a loud crash outside. Both leapt up, swords grabbed from aside the bed, and sprinted out.

The first thing they noticed was darkness. Not the swirling, evil mass that seeped into their pores. No, this was just the dark of a moonless night.

Karl lifted his head towards the lighthouse. Cracked glass and splintered wood. He saw a flash of something, and he knew what had happened.

"Jordan's up there," He murmured.

Tom nodded, sprinting into the bottom and climbing. The other waited outside, just in case.

Usually, the mechanism was closed off, but there were torn open gaps in the wood. He heaved himself up and through. The area was filled with scratches and tears. Deep gashes through the walls, marked faintly with what looked like ink deep within them.

The Captain was crouched in the corner, breathing heavily. He had redstone and pieces of the lamps in his hands, shaking as he desperately tried to put them back into place.

".. Jordan?"

His voice was soft, but the man still jumped hard. He span around, immediately on all fours, eyes wide.

"Woah, hey." Tom set the blade down and shuffled closer. "It's just me. Breathe."

He relaxed, muscles untensing, breath slowing. The Dianitee shifted closer and very gently put his hand on him, soothing him further.

"I'm sorry," Jordan whispered. He looked so, so scared. "I'm sorry I don't know what happened, I just- I just-" He glanced around at the mechanism. "I'll fix it. I gotta fix it."

"It can wait until tomorrow," He murmured gently, "Let's get some-"

"No! No, nonono.. It's dark. It's too dark, I gotta… I gotta…"

He tugged himself away, hissing at the shards of metal under his feet. He tried desperately. But his fingertips were sharp, sharper than before, and the claw tips scratched into the metal and just broke it more, more, more.

Tom knew there was no way to stop him. Instead, he ran to one of the gaps, pushed aside some shards of glass, and leant through.

"Karl!"

He lifted his head, having been watching the area closely. Without the light, mobs could appear from anywhere.

"Grab a torch and get up here!"

His friend nodded, and Tom looked back to Jordan. He was shaking like a madman. (Which, perhaps, he was, but that wasn't the point here.)

The zombie put a hand on his friend's, guiding it away and putting his in instead. "Tell me what to do, bud."

It took a while, but they fixed it. Enough of the lamps were still functioning to let it spiral, a lantern in the dark night. Bringing the torch had calmed him enough for him to get his words out - to explain exactly what was needed. His process was slow. He did a lot of pacing and muttering aloud, but it was all there in his head. It was almost painful to watch him, see him itching to just pick it up and do it himself, watch his frustration whenever he couldn't  _ quite _ describe what he meant.

They expected Jordan to go back home, but he kept his hand in Tom's. Nobody complained. He was pulled along with them to the bed, and practically forced in a snuggle between them. He didn't complain, either.

The light stayed on throughout the night, as usual. Shadows crept in along the corners of rooms and along the ceiling towards them as they slept.

Birds sang a dawn chorus as they always had. Orange morning light streamed in through the window over their heads. Jordan groaned lightly, burying his face in Karl's chest, much to the other's amusement. Tom was awake early for once, too, and he planted a playful kiss on the back of the captain's head.

Tom, of the mystery in nightlife; Karl, of the day and the sun and the warmth; Jordan, of deep down in the sea where neither matter.

Dawn and dusk with the smell of the salt and the sound of the waves were the moments where all three were truly together. Bodies pressed, hearts pumping, minds calm.

“Wakey wakey sparklydick~” He purred, fingers fiddling playfully in ihis dark hair.

“Shoo,” Jordan murmured, lifting his head a little to lean back into the touch.

“Nah.”

He huffed softly. “Karlll, Save me.”

The Mianitee paused, a small pout as he considered it, then he just grinned and rolled over, swinging his legs off of the bed. “Nah.”

Tom’s face split into a grin and he wrapped his arms around Jordan. The man squeaked, staring up after Karl for help, only to get snuggled tighter.

“This is so rude,” He muttered. The champion was perfectly capable of fighting away from Tom, but he pretended to be stuck in his arms nonetheless.

“Then I’m rude,” Tom cooed gently in response.

“Gettoff..” He shoved himself away, fighting back the grin.

(Though, he failed miserably. Anyone and their grandparents could tell how much he loved play-fighting with them in all kinds of ways. Verbal banter, physical tussling, and what could only be described as prank  _ warfare. _ )

The zombie rolled his eyes and hopped up. "I'll grab ya some stuff."

The three had spent so many nights together there that they had effectively moved in. Clothes were scattered through Tom's own and the kitchen had a wider variety of food; Karl even had a toothbrush in the bathroom.

Jordan stretched as the other searched, forcing himself awake. Karl was changing himself out of his pyjamas to one side - they got dressed without worry for the people with them. What's a little bare ass between bros?

Tom soon returned with a shirt and pants that Jordan thought long gone. He gave a small purr, almost 'mrrp', in thanks without even realising he had. This was normal now, but Tom still stifled a giggle.

All joy was gone when the man slipped his shirt off, however.

The black had weaved its way up to his elbow. The marks weaved through his flesh all the way to his shoulders. Over his heart, the deep scar from Tom's blade. That broke his heart enough, but what he saw was far worse. The scar tissue was completely black, with veins that pulsed very faintly along with his heartbeat. The bruises across his shoulders and back from the night before were the obsidian purple of enderman flesh, as all the blood that had run to the area was far too dark.

His legs, too. It had spread up to his knees with weaving patterns nearly to his hips. The swirling, twisting, weaving, whirlpooling, seething, drawing, sucking, sucking, sucking black.

Dark black.

Nobody said a word. With some difficulty, Jordan managed to do up his shirt without tearing the fabric. His claws were far sharper than before. Perhaps they'd blunt with use? Then again, he wasn't about to go up to a tree like a cat with a scratching post.

"Where were you yesterday?" Karl spoke from where he had flopped back on the bed, feet by the pillows, chin on the blanket at the foot.

He was quiet, for a moment. Then quietly said, "I was in my mine overnight. When I came back up it was daytime and I just kinda.. Freaked out, I guess."

Silence. Tom sighed gently. "You were down there all day?"

".. Yeah. I'd calm down and come back up to try again and just freak out all over again." He gave a small laugh, trying to make it comfortable again. It didn't work.

He was far too aware of their expressions of  _ pity _ . It irked him. For want of a better word, kinda pissed him off.

"Mate, I'm sorry, if I'd known-"

"Well, you didn't." He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice. "You didn't, and I'm fine. That was yesterday, nothing we can do to change it. Just don’t worry."

Tom was clearly worrying, but nodded. He found himself distracted from that quickly, however, as he became very aware that Jordan was standing in the one area of the bedroom that was in shade.

“... Do you want me to draw the curtain-”

“I’m  _ fine _ , Tom.”

He tried not to flinch at how he practically snapped. It hurt. It really did - he was doing everything he could to help, and it really felt like Jordan was just shoving them away. He was going through a tough time, yeah, but it still hurt.

Jordan  _ hated _ being different. He was still a champion, he was still just as competent and strong as the others. He wasn’t about to let something as petty as the natural turn of the world stop him.

Breakfast was.. Awkward. Silent. Mainly eggs. Then just more quiet.

One of the problems with Tom’s house is the doors. More accurately, the lack of them. There were many entrances from below, ground level, even above. It was mainly the location of the bed and the blankets (and the cuddles) that stopped them all getting chill and aches every night. There wasn’t any real upside to any of it other than the fact you didn’t need to open doors. Random animals and birds would make their way in, make themselves at home, and Tom really didn’t care. He left nests alone and only moved animals along if they were in the way, which they rarely were.

And, while they were eating, one did. A young pig that had probably escaped from one of the farms.

To say Jordan’s stare was intense was a big understatement. He leant over the table a little, legs tensing as he stared at it. It just wandered through and started sniffing around for any food. His claws dug in a little and his pupils dilated.

Karl very gently reached over and put a hand on Jordan’s. He blinked and looked over to the Mianitee.

“What?”

“No attacking the piglet.”

He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it and silently relaxed back into the seat. “.. I wasn’t gonna..”

Karl simply raised an eyebrow.

“... No attacking the piglet. Got it.”


	5. Chapter 5

He got far sicker far faster this time. Before it was a month and a half, and now it was barely three weeks before his skin began to pale. He would sleep through a lot of the day, and when he ate he would tear with his canines in a way that made the others uncomfortable.

The Darkness delivered another potion, as expected. No snarky note, no dramatic timing. It was just there. Karl found it first and brought it in, holding it in a cloth as if the mere glass was toxic.

Dec had spent the past weeks trying, desperate, to rekindle the connection with the Gods. He fiddled with their temples, made sacrifices and left offerings every day. It helped, in a way, but the Gods were still stuck in their own realm with no explanation how or why.

Basically, the three were lucky to find him at home.

He didn't need any words. He saw them and the potion, and needed nothing more.

He gestured them inside.

Today was definitely a four day, and it showed. Jordan was sat underneath the table with his chin on Tom's lap. The zombie ran his fingers through his friend's hair - this was normal, now. That freaked him out more than Jordan actually doing it.

"It  _ did _ help last time,” Karl murmured softly, just after a long rant from Dec about how it was the worst idea imaginable. 

Tom swallowed, glancing over at the swirling dark liquid as his fingers tugged out a small knot in Jordan’s hair. It did. And that was the problem. That it  _ helped. _

“Did you listen to a word I just said?!” Dec’s mouth was agape, staring at them both in disbelief.

“Honestly, no.”

He groaned, leaning back against a counter. “I was saying that it’s made of pure Darkness. You think he’s bad now, just imagine what’s gonna happen in a month or so. He might-” Dec sighed. “That..  _ Monster _ might become, well..”

“Permanent,” Tom finished for him, looking back down to his friend. Jordan blinked at the sudden eye contact, then burst into purrs, snuggling down a little. 

The Dianitee sighed gently, giving him a sad smile. “Let’s just.. Wait for him.”

“What if he...”

Karl didn’t need to finish. Tom just shook his head. “He’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“.. He might not, Tom..”

“He will.”

“Tom.”

Tears pricked at his eyes. He fought them away and glared up at his friend. “We just have to wait and see.”

The man sighed, sitting himself down. These two had known each other for so long. Years. The thought of losing a connection like that while the person was still right there with you was… It terrified him. He'd only known them for a few months and he was scared enough. He couldn't begin to imagine the desperation in Tom's heart, or the grief, as he watched his best friend look at him like he was a dog ready to serve the zombie - his master.

Jordan pushed himself up, climbing onto the empty chair left for him, and leant over on Tom's shoulder, eyes closed and smile wide.

"Son, you need to be prepared for the fact-"

"I thought I told you to stop calling me son."

Dec just sighed gently. "You need to be prepared for the fact that luck isn't always on our side. We can't win every battle. Especially against nature."

The Dianitee gave nothing but a huff in response, looking back to Jordan and brushing black hair out of his pale, gaunt face. His far-too-dark eyes.

The Priest was silent. The Gods had mentioned something, but…

"There's one thing we can do."

Both heads whipped up and around. Jordan hardly reacted.

"... Theoretically, we could cleanse him of the Darkness using the Tank of Judgement. BUT," He added quickly at their expressions. "The reason we never did that or mentioned it before is because he  _ is _ part of the Darkness now. His physiology has changed and the black marks on his arms and legs.. I dare say they're permanent." He swallowed. "You're not perfect. You're not built to be purely dark or purely light. Cleansing him of Darkness could hurt him even more than being infected with it is."

Quiet.

Karl looked over to Tom's face, his torn expression. He sighed gently and turned back to Dec.

"We'll ask Jordan tomorrow."

Night came, and they were back home. Jordan was sprawled across the bed, head in Tom's lap again. They watched as Karl got ready for bed.

"Wait, where'd that one come from?"

"Huh?" Karl blinked, looking down. Tom pointed at a thin line under his arm and along his chest. "Oh. Uh.. Mia.."

He smirked lightly, watching Karl sit and slip his shirt over his head. "Forget to cut his nails, huh? Naughty~"

"Shut it."

The night was sound. They slept well, their bodies tangled together. Tom woke at some point a couple of hours before dawn for the toilet. He went, and returned, only to find it.. Emptier.

"Jordan?" He hissed, glancing around, careful to be quiet as Karl was still fast asleep. "Cap?!"

"Out here."

His voice was soft with the echo of a cold in the back of it. Everything he did seemed sickly.

Tom stepped out, seeing his friend sat on the beach. He was staring out across the waves, up at the stars that stretched so far above. With a small smile, he sat next to his friend. "You ok, mate?"

"... Yeah." He sounded hesitant, as if it weren't quite true. But Tom didn't push. He leant back to stare upwards at every dot far above. Twinkling and sparkling.

"What do you reckon they are?"

"Hm?"

He gestured up. "The stars. They've gotta be something, right? Like there was this guy in Ruxomar who studied them and there were tons of books about how different ones move all funny."

Jordan gave a little hum, turning his gaze upwards. "Suns."

".. Huh?"

"Suns. Just like the one in the day but super far away. All with worlds like this one and each world might have moons or people of their own. Millions of them. Think of how many tiny bugs and creatures are on and under these islands alone and then think about how many must be on all those worlds, all those islands, so far away." He reached a hand up, the jet black claws just visible against the night sky. "They look like you could just climb up a mountain and pluck them like berries but you can't. You'd go so high that there'd be no air to breathe, and you'd be so far away from the ground that you don't fall back down to it. There's so  _ much _ ."

Tom watched silently, a frown on his face. Ianite's Champion always knew a lot of things, but how did he even dream of this? How could those little dots be the same as the  _ sun _ . And the sun was pretty small - if you could see that, why couldn't they see the other worlds, too?

"It talks to me sometimes," Jordan explained without need for a prompt. "When I'm alone in the dark. It tells me things about- about the  _ universe _ . About everything. Things I didn't know existed."

Universe. The word was unfamiliar, but Tom couldn't help but feel that he'd heard it somewhere before. He brushed it off.

"Not gonna lie, Sparkly-pants, that's kinda mind blowing." He hummed, glancing across the dots. They were a different shape in Ruxomar and his home. Maybe that's because each one of those was just looking at a new angle? Nah. "It, uh.. It talks to me, too. Not that much," He added quickly, "But it creeps into the back of your mind, y'know?"

He nodded, smiling lightly down to Tom. "Yeah, exactly."

"Yeah. Fuckin' weirdo."

They laughed for a moment before falling quiet again. Comfortable, companionable silence. Listening to the waves and the wind in the grass, watching the soft twinkling worlds far above.

"I'm going to be sick again tomorrow."

Tom looked up. He opened his mouth to respond, but-

"I want you to do it." Jordan looked at him again. Even in the moonlight and the sweeping gaze of the lighthouse, he looked unnaturally dark. "The tank. I want you to do it tomorrow."

"But- but what about-"

He cut off as the man stood. When he was himself, in his own mind, he had such an air of confidence and pride that it was hard not to be intimidating. He held out a hand to Tom.

He took it, and let himself be pulled to his feet.

They stood there for forever in a heartbeat.

"I don't want to live like this," Jordan admitted softly, hands still in his. "This way, we have a chance."

Tears flooded Tom's vision. This day had to come eventually. He should have expected it, with everything they went through, but it still tore his heart into shreds.

"Tom."

A hand cupped his cheek. Cold, claw tips so light against his skin as to not hurt him.

"I love you."

He nodded, choking back sobs. "I love you, too."

Jordan was so soft, so gentle as he leant in, and very gently pressed his lips on Tom's cheek, kissing away the tears.

"I'll be ok. Maybe I'd go home."

Tom laughed so softly, reaching up to hold the other's face. He noticed a tear running down his cheek, too. "You swore we'd go home together."

He smiled. "I know."

Karl still slept when they returned. They hadn't said a word more to each other - they didn't need to; the two knew what the other would say.

So for now, sleep.

Tomorrow, adventure.

As it always had been.

-

They stood in front of the tank in silence. Jordan hadn't said a word all morning other than to hiss at a tiny spider that dared come within ten feet of him.

The Priest had everything he needed. The Gods had nothing else for him except hope.

Tom had relayed what had been said. Not all of it, just what they needed to know. The rest was private. It always would be.

He held his best friend's face in his hands. Jordan looked so innocent, so lost. In these moments he was truly just a mindless, wild animal that Tom had somehow domesticated. His charm, his intelligence, his wit, his hope: lost to the recesses of his own mind, to the void, to the Darkness.

"I love you," He whispered, tears falling from his face. He wouldn't get a response. He needed one, but he wouldn't get it.

Karl put a hand on Tom's shoulder. He simply nodded, letting go of his friend, and letting the Mianitee pull him away.

A blink, and Jordan was in the tank.

"Ready?" Dec asked. He was looking up, but the two knew it was for them.

Tom nodded.

Immediately, screeching. Jordan's face contorted into one of pain, his hands clutching his head and the claws drawing blood from his own scalp. Tentacles of pure black ink writhed out from his form, slapping against the glass, desperate. His body shifted, twisting, writing. He didn't look human anymore. He didn't even look like the monster from before. He was something far, far worse; clawing, screaming, pulsating. The tank that had contained even Mianite himself suffered small cracks and scratches in the glass from the sheer power and desperation. The sound was pain incarnate. The smell was sour and burned the back of your nose. The sight would make anyone feel nauseous.

And then it was over.

A small, weak, feeble body curled up at the bottom of the tank. Limp.

"... It's done."

Tom swallowed. He released Karl's hand, not noticing how tight he'd been holding it.

"Get him out."

"Bu-

"GET HIM OUT."

Dec complied, and the body reappeared in the grass.

The zombie skidded over, collapsing to his knees and pulling Jordan in, holding him close. The black on his hands and feet was.. Dull. More of a grey than the nearly glowing black it had been before, with cracks through them as if all the moisture had been drawn out. His head flopped about, needing Tom to support it.

"Jordan?  _ Jordan?! _ "

Any breath that he drew was imperceptible, but his eyes opened.

And there they were.

Deep blue, like the ocean and the midday sky. A whole universe in themselves. The skin was pale, littered with scars and marks of the Darkness creeping closer. But his eyes. They were young, proud, sly, smart, loving.

"Jordan…"

A clawed hand came up and cupped Tom's cheek. He was rough and left a mark, but neither cared.

"I love you too," The man whispered.

Then his hand fell limp.

"No. No!"

Tom shook the body violently, but to no avail. There was nothing there, now. Not Darkness, not Light, not Jordan.

And he  _ cried _ .

He cried for days. Sobbing, ugly cries. Wails when he couldn't hold it in.

The Gods were there for the funeral.

Ianite admitted, softly, that it was Jordan himself that was preventing them from coming back. The strong presence of Darkness that made it so hard for them. It was bad enough at first, but after Jordan drank the next potion, it was impossible.

The world itself mourned. The loss of a Champion was nothing to be underestimated. The waves far out in the ocean were the size of dragons, roaring and fighting the wind. The islands themselves were left untouched. Even the most desperate mourner had their limits.

He was sent off like a true hero. Not just that, but a true Captain. His boat sailed off to sea and burned, for him and his body, his smarts, his bravery and his smile, to join the world once again.

And so, this was it.

It was the end. 

They'd taken on every enemy that came before them, even themselves. They had collected the stones, they had taken down every monster. They had slain armies with just the three of them.

And they won.

Now, there were only two of them left, and their plan built on revenge and anger.

The evil behind it all.

The Darkness.

It was far too easy to get in. This time, there would be no chit-chat. No dramatic speech. They would walk in, and it would  _ die. _ Die how it had killed their friend. Their family.

Tom shot an arrow before the first breath was taken. The Darkness dodged, and the battle began.

Twisting and weaving, it got hits in, but so did they. Karl was dual wielding his Sword of Order and the Sword of Light while Tom fought with Jordan's netherite blade. The dark brown metal glistened with yellows and blues and purples. It might not have been blessed by the Gods, but it had been hand-crafted by the Captain, and if anything, that made it even stronger.

They didn't need to communicate. One would skid left and the other would immediately add to it from the right. Clashing, slashing, slicing.

Tom's sword slipped out of his hand. He raised his shield as a whip of green and black smoke sped towards him. He barely blocked it. His heart thumped in his ears as he turned to grab the sword, but-

He didn't feel it at first. The blade was so sharp that it cut through his bones with ease - directly through his chest.

He looked down at the glinting netherite, tainted with his blood.

Smoke curled into a figure in front of him. The Darkness; here in person to watch the light drain from his eyes as its minions busied Karl.

Tom grabbed its shoulders. An automatic reflex to keep him standing. He shouldn't be standing.

It took his in return, holding him up. It stared into his eyes with its own. It sucked out every last drop of energy and hope before he died for good.

_ For good. _

He tugged at the body and lunged himself forwards. Before either knew what he had done, the tip of the sword through his chest had embedded itself in the Darkness'.

It coughed. Jet black blood of its own dripped from its smoking mouth.

And it was gone.

Its minions retreated.

Tom collapsed.

-

Mianite would tell Karl that the Darkness wasn't dead. Not truly. If it were, there would be no monsters at night. No, not even night would exist. But it was wounded. It had retreated, and it would take a  _ long _ time to recover.

An act of love and self-sacrifice hit far harder than any blade alone.

Dianite couldn't bring him back. Not only had he died in the upside-down, he had died at the hands of the Darkness itself.

And, again, the world mourned.

But Karl wouldn't be around to see it.

The Gods would send him on. On, onwards to where his friends had been so desperate to go. Onwards to where the three were destined to go. Onwards to where he didn't want to go. To where the Mianite he knew would be different.

Onwards to where only one went.

He recognised these people from the stories his friends told. It had been years, but they still matched the descriptions somewhat, and their personalities definitely matched.

They asked who he was.

He told them.

He told them what happened.

And he cried.

-

Tom gasped lightly, hand shooting to his chest, only to find nothing. Just his shirt.

He frowned, taking in what was around him. He seemed to be on a hill made of violet grass. Translucent, sweet, glowing, and so soft that he could have sworn his hand went right through them if he hadn't seen them move.

"Tom."

His eyes widened and his head shot up. There. Right there, in front of him. As if nothing had happened. As if it were all a dream.

".. Jordan?" His voice choked in his throat. "A-am I-...?"

"Yeah," He answered softly, and extended a hand. A human hand. His hand.

Tom took it, and launched himself at Jordan, making the two almost fall straight back down into the grass. They laughed. They laughed and cried the happiest tears, but never felt tired or dehydrated because of it.

The man laughed, finally pulling away, but still holding his arms. His human arms. And his own human arms - no longer green, no longer dead. They would never let go again.

"I promised I'd never go home without you."

"You idiot," Tom laughed, his cheeks red from the sheer happiness. "My home is wherever your dumb ass is!"

Jordan sighed. They pressed their foreheads together. Stood, silent, together. Together. Finally, truly, together.

"That's good. I was worried how I'd break it to you that I don't know which way home is."

He squeezed Jordan's hand.

His head lifted to the millions of stars far above.

"Then let's start looking."

-

Karl sat alone on the roots of Jerry's tree, staring out at the ocean. Being inland made him... Uncomfortable, somehow. His home on the isles had been a tree anyway, so he'd stay here.

He spent his nights watching the sea and the stars. On cloudy nights, he'd sleep, arms wrapped around cushions and blankets for want of someone else there.

But on the clearest, he would see them shine, and he swore on everything that he knew, that far above, echoing across the waves, he could hear their laughter.

And he knew they were coming home.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I'm Sorry, My Dears](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26085904) by [Anigod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anigod/pseuds/Anigod)




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